Unleashed
by FourSilverArrows
Summary: Sheppard's team makes a horrifying discovery that causes John to withdraw from his friends. Then Sheppard is kidnapped during a routine scouting mission. Also, Ronon is on a quest. Warnings: Language, violence, disturbing situations.
1. Chapter 1

Unleashed

Chapter 1

A/N: This was going to be a follow-up, but I decided to make it a stand-alone, not referencing any of the other stories I've written.

Beta: J.A.B. – but any mistakes remaining are my own.

Spoilers: SG-1 Enemy Mine, everything from Atlantis Season 1 and everything up to Michael are fair game.

Warnings: Language, Violence and some very disturbing situations and references. Some places in the story might be hurl worthy!

-------

It was complete devastation . . . and completely devastating.

Lt. Col. John Sheppard stood alone in the middle of a low ceiling bunker made from sandbags and raw local lumber.

The others on his team—Teyla, McKay and Ronon—were waiting outside.

Giving him a moment to pull himself together.

The Listening Post had been his idea. It was to be a way to gather information on their enemies and to get friendly with some of the locals and their trading partners. It was a chance to learn about and share with another culture of the Pegasus galaxy.

It had worked up to a point; they had found three new allies in the short time the L.P. had been operating.

Until they missed a check-in time and Sheppard's team was sent to find out what had happened.

Sheppard swallowed back his nausea as he looked at what was left of the L.P. and the twelve people he sent to man it.

There was dark, clotted blood and rotted flesh.

The Colonel bent down and found what looked like wooden beads mixed with long grass in the hair of one of the dead.

His dead.

And some type of dark, hard insects swarmed over the raw meat.

The men were butchered . . . but the women . . .

Sheppard knew he shouldn't make the distinction between male and female. They were all Marines and good at their jobs or they wouldn't be out here.

Three of Atlantis' teams . . . three of his teams were gone in the space of a day.

He was waiting for the anger to come and help him out of his numbness, but it wouldn't come.

"Colonel?"

It was Rodney, but not Rodney. The voice was right, but the tone was all wrong. There was no sarcasm, no impatience and no deeply buried humor.

Just worry and sickness.

"I'm fine." Sheppard stood, looked around one last time and shifted his P-90 so he could grip it with both hands until his knuckles turned white. "Fine."

Only silence answered his obvious lie.

"Did you call Beckett? We need to . . ."

"Yes, he's coming with a team," answered Rodney in a tight voice as he tried to keep his eyes on the walls and not the corpses.

John nodded slowly and then got the hell out of there, almost running past Teyla and Ronon to get to the Puddle Jumper before he lost his lunch.

-------

A week later, Ronon's glare was steady as he propped one elbow on the small refrigerator door and studied its contents.

Each shelf and drawer had been carefully marked with strips of silver duct tape and labeled with the names of those that used the small appliance in the 'break room.'

He could see Teyla's section had a small container of fruit from the last shipment from the Mainland.

A half melted candy bar that the scientist was trying to remold for a snack later currently occupied McKay's space.

Sheppard had a plate that once held three slices of pie, but it was now holding a piece of crust and a smear of something that looked like chocolate.

The rest of the items ranged from cottage cheese to carefully camouflaged beer from Earth.

And no matter how many times Ronon looked, his item was nowhere to be found.

He grunted to himself and stroked his beard. Who would be stupid enough to steal his prized possession he opened just two days ago? An item that was clearly marked with his name on the top?

Ronon slammed the door shut with a pop and started with the obvious suspect first.

-------

Dr. Rodney McKay was oblivious to most things most of the time. Especially when he was working on his computer, or happily contemplating the thousand and one brilliant ideas that crossed his mind every day.

Or worried about a slightly dense Air Force Colonel who was insisting that he was fine after finding three of his teams ripped to pieces.

Except . . . Rodney always knew when he was being watched. Not just watched, but a heavy glare that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

That was something he learned to recognize at a very young age in school.

Early warning was a necessary evil for a child genius who didn't mind sharing his opinions with his peers.

Rodney looked up with annoyance to snarl at whatever idiot was disrupting his work when he saw Ronon.

A very, very pissed looking Ronon.

Coming his way.

McKay, having learned his past lessons well, didn't wait to find out what the big Satedan wanted.

Rodney bolted and hoped he had enough of a head start.

-------

Rodney was gasping for breath by the time he found Sheppard holed up in his once rarely used office. A place that the Colonel now haunted with red-rimmed eyes and a slouch that had nothing to do with his self-proclaimed laziness.

Sheppard looked up in surprise as Rodney ran in and slammed himself against the wall with out spread arms.

John, already on edge, stood up quick enough to send his desk chair flying. He hadn't heard an alarm or any announcements over the radio, but Rodney was clearly running from something. "McKay? What the hell?"

Rodney waved a hand at his face as if trying to force air into his lungs. "He's . . . trying . . . to kill me!"

John's 9 mil was out as he swiftly crossed the room to the door. He peered out, looking for anyone suspicious. "Who?" he demanded.

"Ronon."

Sheppard deflated with a sigh and let his head drop. He put his gun away and leaned against the doorway, suddenly tired. "Ronon? What did you do this time?"

"Me? Nothing!" McKay paused to think over the last few days. "Well, nothing this past week—"

"What about last month's little incident with the transporter?" John folded his arms across his chest. God, he wished he could go back to last month. "He was stuck in that thing for three hours."

Rodney had recovered enough to peel himself from the wall and match John's lean against the solid surface. "Please, he has no proof that was me."

"Since when did that ever matter to Ronon?" asked Sheppard with a raised eyebrow.

McKay's face went from annoyed to slightly panicked. "You, ah, have a point there."

Sheppard turned his head to look out the door and McKay shifted uneasily.

"See him?"

Sheppard shook his head. "Nope. What did he say when he was trying to kill you?"

John asked the question, but the conversation went to the back of his mind as the images of the L.P. slaughter popped up behind his eyes. He turned away quickly, his hand brushing the handle of his 9 mil for reassurance.

Rodney was rambling along about Ronon staring at him, but he knew John's attention was gone once again.

Since they found the bodies, Sheppard hadn't been the same. He was aloof from his team and found every reason he could to leave the non-Earth military members behind when missions were assigned.

Carson had some theory about this incident coming so close on the heels of them thinking that Lorne and his team were killed, that the Colonel just needed some time to process what happened.

Rodney could tell this was more. Even after the Lorne fiasco, Sheppard had never lost his gut-based style of command.

And Dr. Kate Heightmeyer, the psychologist, had just scheduled Sheppard for sessions and the Colonel willingly went with no complaints.

Still, he was like a robot around his friends and teammates. He just seemed . . . empty.

"You can hide out here if you think it will do any good," said Sheppard suddenly, cutting Rodney's chatter off. "But he is a tracker, he'll find you eventually."

McKay lost no time in taking the extra chair in the office and putting his back to a wall.

And decided to use this time to sound out Sheppard.

"So . . . Elizabeth record the messages to the families yet? From the L.P.?"

Sheppard stiffened at his desk. "No, I told her I'd do it this time." He picked up a stack of papers and shook it so that it fanned in the slight breeze. "By hand."

Rodney was shaken. That John was taking this so hard that he was actually doing this by hand, when in the past he had done everything possible to pass the responsibility for family notices to Elizabeth. Well, except for Ford and Sumner.

"Oh. How's it going?"

John raised a shoulder, his eyes down. "It's going."

When Rodney opened his mouth again, Sheppard cut him off. "Look, McKay, you can hide out here for the moment, but I need to get these done. A little . . . quiet would be good."

Rodney sat back in his appropriated chair and frowned at the top of John's lowered head. "Sure."

Nothing more was said and Sheppard was soon called away for a new mission.

A mission that, once again, didn't include his team.

-------

It was an extended scouting mission, a basic sweep of the new area that was being considered for an emergency site, but Sheppard was anxious.

He just couldn't seem to shake the bad feeling that crawled into his brain on each and every new mission. Flashes of torn flesh and blood caught him at inappropriate times.

Like now.

He tried to push it away and concentrate on the mission, but it was becoming harder and harder to force himself to think away from Atlantis.

It wasn't right, but he was glad he'd left Teyla, Rodney and Ronon behind on Atlantis. He knew they were beginning to question his reasons, but he didn't want civilians out here at the moment.

One klick to the north of the gate, Lorne looked over his shoulder at the Colonel and slowly nodded.

Without looking at the teams, the Colonel made a quick motion with his left hand and the soldiers scattered into the trees and behind cover.

The radio popped as the members broke squelch to signal their readiness.

Lorne moved closer to Sheppard. "All clear," he whispered.

Sheppard nodded. "Go," he barely whispered back.

Lorne sent the signal for the team to continue forward.

"Stay close," whispered the Major as he slipped past his CO.

Sheppard raised a hand in reply.

They leapfrogged through the alien jungle with deliberate and coordinated moves.

-------

It was a shock to Lorne's system when Sheppard's usually laid-back voice came harshly over the radio, breaking the relative silence of the landscape.

"Lorne, I think you should see this!"

There was the sound of retching near the end of the transmission and Lorne lengthened his choppy stride and raised his P-90.

What he found when he reached Sheppard almost made him loose his own stomach contents.

In the trees were garish displays of bones and dried meat . . . a collection of torn flesh that swayed gently in the wind was covered with dark insects.

Lorne had a sudden flashback of Colonel Edwards' mining operation when they found Lt. Ritter 'displayed' by an Unas. He'd felt like his stomach was trying to come up through his throat when he threw up back then.

"Sirs? Sirs?" came a soft, distorted voice from their left.

Sheppard straightened up and spit the taste out of his mouth to see their most inexperienced soldier, Reichmann, turn white and then flush red.

John knew the feeling.

Keeping his P-90 at the ready, Sheppard moved closer to the youngster. "Go ahead. I'll watch your back."

At the Colonel's words, Reichmann turned quickly from the others and lost his last meal on the ground. His retching and choking gasps made both of the senior officers' throats hurt in sympathy.

"Colonel."

Sheppard spat again, turned to Lorne and saw the man point to the obscene trees. He reluctantly looked back and saw the woven rope braids that hung down like strange Christmas decorations between the 'bodies' on the branches.

Some of the ropes were black, seemingly steeped in old blood. Others were the color of sunflowers and ripe oranges.

"The hell?" muttered Sheppard as he turned to check on Reichmann before he moved any closer to the exhibit.

Reichmann was still bent over with his hand pressed to his right temple. He was back to being pale.

"Okay?" asked Lorne when he knew damn well that the young man was anything but.

"Yeah . . . yes, sir."

Lorne nodded and let his gaze take in the rest of the two teams and the trees as Sheppard moved in closer to the macabre exhibit.

Half of the Atlantis personnel looked as if they were ready to be sick and the other half looked as if they were clenching their jaws to keep from being sick.

John moved in to study the display and almost gasped when he recognized the patterns of beads. God, it was so close to what they found at the L.P.—

"Pull back," Sheppard suddenly hissed in his radio. He gave the hand signal as Lorne glared at him.

"Sir?"

Yes, the Major was not pleased.

"Fall back. Now."

"And you, sir?" Lorne's glare turned acidic.

Sheppard ignored him as he stepped carefully closer to the horrible art.

"Major, fall back and send three back to contact Atlantis about this. Dr. Weir will want to know. Tell her . . . tell her it looks like what we found at the L.P."

"Yes, sir," replied Lorne reluctantly. "Are you sure, sir?"

If they were in any other situation, the Colonel would have smiled at the aggravation he was causing the tense Major. But not right now.

Sheppard moved closer to the tall gnarled trees with the copper colored leaves. He let his eyes travel up to the tree canopy above and noticed that the nasty demonstration went all the way up to the sky.

It made him dizzy to look so far up so he focused on the bones and ropes that were closer to the ground. The whole thing made him feel small and vulnerable.

Now that he was closer, he could see wood-like beads and pieces of woven grasses tied to the ropes and the bleached bones.

The colors were interesting in their intensity but he soon turned from that issue to look at the bones themselves.

The Wraith bones he identified almost immediately. There were hundreds of Wraith soldier skulls with their ghastly bone masks and large frames.

What intrigued Sheppard the most was the smaller sets of bones that showed long fangs and huge claws.

It didn't make sense. The Colonel turned around to study the other sets of bones that dangled above the ground with their mouths agape and rotted flesh.

The Colonel was about to turn back to his anxious 2IC and order him to pull back again when he heard movement in the leaves.

He was instantly on guard, his eyes narrowed as he looked at the nearby branches.

"Colonel!"

The shout almost made Sheppard jump. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder and take his eyes off the potential target.

"Sheppard! Behind you!"

It felt like slow motion as John Sheppard turned trying to get his weapon in the right position to fire. He could hear the tat-tat-tat of P-90s and the yelling of Lorne over the radio to the teams.

Then a heavy something landed on his back and he went facedown into the dry leaves and forest mulch.

A blow caught him behind his left ear and all sound and sight faded away.

TBC . . .


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Beta: J.A.B. – but any mistakes remaining are my own.

Spoilers: SG-1 Enemy Mine, everything from Atlantis Season 1 and everything up to Michael are fair game.

A/N: This is a shorter chapter – only 7 pages – but I thought it was a good stopping point. Yay! Cliffhangers!

Warnings: Language, Violence and some very disturbing situations and references. Some places in the story might be hurl worthy!

-------

With the sounds of the gunfight fading, John felt motion and hard hands on his ankles. The feeling of being dragged over the ground as debris jabbed into the back of his head was disorientating.

Sheppard was awake enough to realize that whatever was dragging him was strong . . . and nearly silent in the forest.

When the motion stopped, Sheppard's chin was grabbed in a bruising grip.

He opened his blurry eyes and looking into a cruel looking face that made his soul want to crawl away.

"Who are you?" asked the looming creature, its dark, textured skin rough against John's jaw.

The . . . thing was covered in a fine fur, had a mouth full of long teeth and John could feel the scrape of nails or claws on his jaw. The eyes were an unnatural yellow color with narrow pupils.

It wore a brief scrap of black leather around its middle, showing off ropey muscles and hard tendons. Long, fine white threads were woven into the creature's scalp near the pointed ears. From them hung six multi color beads and a twist of dry, red grass.

Just like the L.P.—

The Colonel gasped as the grip tightened causing tiny pricks in his flesh. He felt a trickle of blood and he knew that there would be a bruise later.

"Who are you!" asked the creature in a low, growling voice as it pushed closer to John's face, the thing's breath foul and fetid.

Sheppard didn't answer, not able to gather his addled brain for a response, causing the thing to hiss in displeasure.

It looked around the area as if considering what to do and then the hard grip on John's chin changed to cover his left temple. "I will know. One way or the other."

The shaft of pain hit Sheppard right between his eyes. Despite the hold on his head, John's body bowed off the ground, trying to get away from the agony.

The thing held him down with little problem.

Sheppard tried to reach for his weapons and a hard hand scratched at him, knocking his grip away from the help.

From his relief.

It was like the experience with the Wraith Queen, but different—more painful and sharp.

That was the last clear thought he had before he screamed, causing some of the native birds to take to the air in fright.

-------

Ronon was impressed. After a full day of hunting, he still couldn't pin down McKay.

If his time in Atlantis had taught him anything, it was that these people from Earth could be surprisingly resourceful. Even the ones that seemed like cowards—often they were the most dangerous to hunt.

Cornered and frightened animals often fought the hardest and the dirtiest. The desperation to live caused even a small thing to fight like a quarnarc beast sometimes.

It seemed that everywhere the tall warrior went, the sarcastic scientist had just been there . . . and left in a hurry.

It was another near miss at the mess when Ronon's radio popped with a calm voice of one of the control room techs.

"Ronon Dex, Dr. McKay, and Teyla . . . please report to the conference room. ASAP."

ASAP was a word that had confused Ronon in the beginning, until one of the Marines explained what an acronym was. Of course, Ronon still kicked the Marine's ass during practice, but he was grateful for the Earth English lesson.

He was part way to the conference room when he grinned widely.

McKay would be there.

No near miss this time.

-------

Sheppard lay panting, his head felt swollen and hot. The Colonel could feel the warm trickle of blood from his nose as it ran across his upper lip and down his right cheek to drip to the ground.

John wondered if all the Pegasus Galaxy things digging around in his brain would cause eventual brain damage.

McKay would probably argue he was already brain damaged.

"You had pain," remarked the creature, its claws still extended and its body still tense.

"What . . . gave it away," slurred John as he tried to roll over on his stomach. Just in case he threw up—again.

"There is a shadow over your thoughts. It feels like death."

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Sheppard as the world started to blur and then faded away into a black haze.

-------

Dr. Weir was tense when Sheppard's team arrived in the conference room. Major Lorne was scruffy, with streaks of blood and dirt across his face as he sat in the seat to her left.

As they entered, McKay was not so subtly sidling away from Ronon, trying to put Teyla in the middle. As hard as the scientist tried to get away, Ronon matched him move for move with that wide creepy grin of his.

Ronon leaned around Teyla and took a deep breath.

"Did you just smell me?" squawked McKay, his hands flapping at the Satedan. "Stay away from me, you depraved Conan rip off!"

Ronon just leaned in closer to McKay's face and took another deep breath, causing McKay to stumble back.

Then the warrior frowned.

"Gentleman, if you have the time—we have a situation," said Elizabeth in a hard, worried voice.

McKay and Ronon turned to see Dr. Weir and the battered Major Lorne up close for the first time.

Teyla stepped past the two now silent and confused men. "Dr. Weir, what has happened?" She glanced at Major Lorne. "Has something happened to Colonel Sheppard?"

"In a word—yes. Major Lorne will brief you on what happened, and then I want you all ready to participate in a search and rescue mission."

"But Sheppard didn't want us out in the field," said McKay quietly.

Dr. Weir crossed her arms tightly. "Colonel Sheppard is not here at the moment, is he? Be ready to leave in fifteen minutes."

-------

When Sheppard awoke again, he wasn't sure where he was and what had happened.

He could remember flashes of pain and a musky smell . . .

John tried to call out, but all that came out was a breathy sound barely loud enough to reach his own ears. He was a hundred percent sure he wasn't thinking the words instead of speaking them; he just couldn't gather the strength to make himself heard.

He coughed and tried again. "Lorne?"

The first thing that he saw when he finally pried open his eyes was the piercing sunlight through copper leaves. It was like an ice pick to his brain, so he quickly dragged his hand up to shield his face.

The second thing he saw was the creature hovering over him. The yellow gaze almost made him try to crawl away as his memories of the mind probe came rushing back.

His head was still killing him. All he wanted was to be able to reach out to push away the pain that was drilling into the back of his eyes and causing him to feel sick.

Sheppard resisted the urge to flinch back when the creature hovering over him reached out a clawed hand to touch his cheek. The thing made a grinding sound. "Do you understand me now?"

Instead of answering him, Sheppard pushed away as violently as he could, rolled over onto his stomach, and then tried to stand. It wasn't easy since he seemed to have misplaced his balance somewhere, but he felt a lot better when he finally make it to his feet.

He reached for his weapons to find them gone, so he tried to get in a defensive posture in case the thing attacked.

Not that he could defend himself even though he was now basically standing. A stiff wind could knock him back down if he didn't concentrate on keeping the sky above and the ground below.

Now that John was standing, the thing also straightened up and the CO of the Atlantis military contingent noticed that the creature was shorter than he was. It barely reached his sternum.

Probably not even four foot tall.

"Who are you? Do you work with the Pale Ones? Are you the one that came through the Gateway before?" snarled the thing, clearly not impressed by the Colonel's show of bravado.

Sheppard rocked back and forth on his feet, trying to keep his balance. "I'm not answering your questions . . . until you tell me what happened to my men."

A hard fist in the face was John's answer.

--------

Sheppard was being dragged again, twigs and grass plucking at his clothing and hair.

He groaned. When the hell did it get so fashionable to drag the commanding CO of Atlantis around like a sack of potatoes?

His legs were dropped suddenly, causing a shudder of pain in his heels and legs.

A rough hand jerked him up into a sitting position and shook him harshly. "Eat! I need you alive for the questioning."

Sheppard looked around to see a crude camp with a small fire and a shelter. He also saw his weapons in an isolated pile by a small tree on the very edge of the camp. Far enough away that he wasn't sure he would be able to make it without the creature skewering him with its claws.

Damn, he felt weak.

A wooden bowl of grey and black meat appeared before Sheppard's face and he took it tentively, a scowl on his tired and bruised face. "I don't think—"

"Eat!"

John started picking at the meat with little enthusiasm. It was too chewy for his liking so he took the opportunity to look around and saw more bone and bead displays in the nearby trees.

"You going to tell me why I'm here?" asked John with a nod to the trees.

The creature grunted and shook its head, causing the beads on the thread to clack together. "You came through the Gateway on your own. I am just trying to find out what you want."

Sheppard straightened. "Want? Nothing. We didn't even know this place was inhabited."

The yellow-eyed creature just ate, using his long claws like a fork to spear the stringy, undercooked meat.

Sheppard looked at the bones that hung like strung puppets in the trees—especially the ones with long claws. "Those are your people," he said suddenly.

The thing shrugged. "Some. It is a warning to the Pale Ones not to come here. Death is waiting for them here."

"The Pale Ones?"

The meat finished, Sheppard's captor wiped its sharp claws on the grass. "Tall, pale, big teeth—eats without using their mouths."

"The Wraith?" asked John. "I saw some of their . . . bodies in the first tree. Where you attacked me."

"You were a stranger ignoring the warning. You should know better, it is written in the trees. Only someone who is blind would not know this is protected land."

"I don't even know what you are!" exclaimed John, his head starting to throb again.

"Ungue—we are Ungue. It is a name well known to the . . . Wraith, as you call them. We kill everyone we come across. Enemies . . . and good eating."

With a horrified look, Sheppard shakily put down his bowl. "Wraith?" he asked in a sick voice. "You gave me Wraith meat?"

The thing just grinned, its fangs dimpling its bottom lip.

The bowl clattered away as John kicked out, the gristly meat flying onto the ground.

John retched in disgust until the Ungue grabbed him by his shoulder in a hard grip. It hissed at the spoiled meat and bared its pointy teeth in anger. "Rest time is over! Now, tell me who you are and what you want!"

Too tired to scream this time, John could only moan as a new spike of hot pain hit his brain.

Then a low, caterwauling scream cut through the trees . . . and the thing that hovered over Sheppard cringed back in fear—

TBC . . .


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Beta: J.A.B.

Spoilers: SG-1 Enemy Mine, everything from Atlantis Season 1 and everything up to Michael are fair game.

Warnings: Language, Violence and some very disturbing situations and references. Some places in the story might be hurl worthy!

-------

After they loaded into the Puddle Jumper for the mission, Lorne remained quiet. He'd taken the time to outline briefly the circumstances of Sheppard's disappearance; and then went to get a new uniform before they were schedule to leave.

It was a quick journey through the gate, where Lorne had two men on duty. After a brief contact with the two Marines, the Major turned the Jumper toward the place of attack.

The Major was worried, frustrated . . . and a little guilty for letting his CO be dragged off while he and two teams of soldiers were in close proximity.

And it didn't seem as if Lorne was the only one critical of his performance as Sheppard's 2IC, and his actions on the scouting mission.

Ronon's glares were weighing heavy on the back of the Major's neck, making him shrug his shoulders occasionally to get rid of the tingling sensation from his neck hairs standing on end.

"You left him," rumbled Ronon flatly into the thick silence of the Puddle Jumper.

The Major was about to turn around from the pilot's controls when Teyla's calm voice interrupted. "Ronon, we do not have time for this bickering," she said quietly from her seat. She didn't look up from checking her P-90 and the extra ammunition in her vest.

"He left him alone and now Sheppard's gone," growled the big Satedan, his right hand scrubbing at the hair on his chin in anger.

Lorne just gripped the Jumper controls harder and gritted his teeth, causing his jaw muscles to quiver. He wanted to defend himself, say he was following Sheppard's orders, but it just sounded hollow, even to him.

After her weapon check, Teyla leaned forward in her seat. "Major, tell us again what the . . . things looked like."

Lorne sighed and tried to settle down. He flipped through the H.U.D. displays to make sure he was on the right track to the position where Sheppard was last seen. "Dark, small, quick. One of them had the Colonel on the ground and out of sight quicker than I could get to him."

McKay sat behind the pilot's seat, holding his life-signs detector like a talisman, his thumb rubbing the smooth casing repeatedly. "You said there was more than one of these creatures? How many are we talking here? You think we have enough people—"

"I don't know, Doc," said Lorne in a tired voice. "They were in the trees, we couldn't see much. The original two teams are still searching the area while I and two of the guys went for backup. They may know more by the time we get there."

"Perhaps. It is something we can hope for," murmured Teyla. She turned to McKay and inclined her head at the anxious man. "I'm sure that with the personnel already here, we will have plenty of help in our search for the Colonel and to take him back by force, if necessary."

McKay just slumped into his chair, still stroking his scanner absently, worry still etched on his face.

-------

Exhausted and in pain, Sheppard could do little to press his advantage when the creature shrank back in terror at the scream that wafted out of the copper leaves overhead.

John slowly turned over and tried to make it to his confiscated weapons at the edge of the camp, but a vicious kick knocked the remaining breath from his lungs before he got halfway there.

Sheppard was left curled inward around his new pain, and he was gasping on the hard ground.

Harsh growls were exchanged between the new . . . thing and the creature that had been ripping into Sheppard's mind.

The Colonel turned his head slowly, still gagging for air, to see a bare, furry foot nearby. It wasn't dark in color like his captor's, but more of a brownish tan and the toe claws seemed larger.

John looked up to see what appeared to be a female Ungue standing over him, a club made of painted bone held in her left hand and a large claw extended from the forefinger on her right hand.

She had only a little more clothing on than the male, but she had more white threads woven into her lighter fur with a rainbow of beads and bones decorating her form. They were pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck, pressing down the head fur causing her sharply pointed ears to stand out from the sides of her head.

And from her earlobes hung what appeared to be glazed, yellow irised eyeballs.

Wraith eyeballs . . .

"Who?" demanded the female as she pointed her club at John, her mouth spitting saliva.

The male was still cringing away, his right hand up to protect his head, as if he expected an attack. "I am not yet sure . . . please, give me more time!"

The female hissed and raised her club in a threatening manner. "I should just put it out of its misery now," she growled.

"Please, Tribe Hunter, one chance more!" pleaded the male as he crept forward, trying to grab John's foot and pull him away from the angry female.

The cat-like woman looked down at Sheppard and leaned over to grab his vest, while still holding her bone club, to halt John's slide away from her. Her large clawed finger reached up and trailed across his forehead, drawing beads of blood.

As she licked her claw clean of the foreign red substance, she put her triangular nose into his dark hair and inhaled deeply.

"McKay will never let me live this down," muttered Sheppard as he tried to stay still.

After she was done, the female stood and kicked John again, her toe claws ripped at his vest. Sharp pain in his ribs arched him away from the assault with a grunt.

"He smells different. Different clothing. One chance more. Do it or both your bones will join those in one of the Display Trees."

Then she was gone, the clatter of her bone jewelry a dark reminder of her threat.

"Well," gritted out Sheppard. "That was an interesting way of giving . . . a pep talk. She seemed a little uptight."

The male was still huddled to the ground, his large, almond shaped eyes searching the overhanging branches for the female's presence. "Quiet! She is still here—watching. I have no wish to die with, or for, the likes of you!" The male turned on his haunches and then crawled closer to Sheppard.

"The Masters, they made us to kill the Wraith, but . . . but the females came out feral. Almost uncontrollable. When their blood gets hot, it is best to stay out of their way until they've killed."

"It's always best to stay out of the crazy cat lady's way," murmured Sheppard as he tried to sit up, his left arm pushing at the ground as his right arm covered his hurting side.

"Yes," replied the male. He licked his dark, thin lips and then smiled, showing his fangs in an unpleasant way. "And I may possibly have a chance at mating this year if I gain the information she seeks."

Sheppard's eyes snapped up to look closely at the male. He took in the creature's tense body, the tight muscles and the fur standing on end.

John suddenly realized he was in for the beating of his life and tried to brace himself just as the dark figure launched at him, taking him to the ground.

-------

After the Jumper landed and everyone disembarked, Ronon sat on his heels as he studied the spot where his team leader was tackled to the ground and dragged away.

The search teams had no new information, just reports of shadows moving in the forest and strange growls that seemed to make fun of their fumbling attempts at catching a prisoner to question.

Ronon ignored the soldiers and poked one subtle footprint with a forefinger and watched the dry dirt crumble.

"It's heavy, but light on its feet, whatever it is," he muttered to Teyla and McKay who stood close by. Teyla was watching the trees intently and McKay was glaring at his Ancient scanner.

Ronon poked the print again and grunted.

"What is it, Ronon?" asked Teyla, her attention now on the print, but her gun still covering the trees.

They had all seen the disturbing display in the trees . . . no one wanted to end hanging up as another grim decoration in the natives' trees, blood drained and insects nesting in their drying flesh.

"I think I've seen something similar, the claw pattern . . . somewhere else. Sheppard was involved then, too. And McKay."

"When? I think I would remember something dark and furry trying to drag me into the woods," sniped McKay as he turned in a circle, scanning the trees for life signs of any kind. "I'm getting multiple hits on life signs. Just at the edge of the scanner's range."

Rodney wanted to find the enemy, but mostly he wanted to find a slightly rumpled, spiky-haired American Colonel.

"Don't know when, but it will come to me. Sooner or later," grunted Ronon as he pushed into a standing position. "They went this way."

Without another word, Sheppard's team followed the drag marks in the grass and leaves.

Lorne shook his head and assigned Reichmann to guard the inside of the Puddle Jumper. The kid was still looking a little green, so Lorne thought it best to take pity on the man and leave him behind, with the back hatch of the Jumper firmly closed for safety.

The rest of the men, Lorne fanned out, following as quietly behind the foremost Atlantis team as they searched for their missing leader.

-------

Physical pain now joined the mental pain as Sheppard lay in a torn heap under the gently swaying branches of the local trees, their copper colored leaves making pretty patterns against the blue sky.

Soon after the female had left, the male had popped out a claw on his right hand forefinger, thankfully not as large as the female's, and started shredding whatever came to hand, be it cloth or skin.

Questions were peppered in between the ripping, but John was too busy trying to breath through the pain to answer any one of them.

Questions such as, 'Who are you,' 'What are you doing here,' and 'Are you working for the Pale Ones?'

There were also a few about coming through the gate and taking a female, but John wasn't really paying attention at that point as he felt blood slide down the skin on his arms and torso.

Even with his eyes tightly shut, John knew his vest lay in a mauled pile of fabric a few yards away, along with his jacket.

After the first frenzy of attack, the male had backed off to rip beads and grass from his fur to mix in with the bloody clothes. The male seemed to be marking John's things as his own.

Or the kill as his own.

It was another thing that reminded John of the destroyed Listening Post, making him shudder

It also reminded him of his high school girlfriend's cat named Nutso. That damn cat knew full well that John hated its guts and it would still rub fur all over John's clothing every chance it got.

Not just any fur—long, white, clinging fur.

Then it started using its claws, trying to shred his leather bomber jacket.

Polly kept insisting that the cat was just trying to be friendly, to mark him as his, but John knew the fat, white thing was out to get him away from Polly. Hell, she named it 'Nutso;' she had to know the cat wasn't right in the head.

In the end, the cat won. John left with his coat clutched protectively to his chest, trailing long cat hair behind.

"Nutso," whispered Sheppard through his lips, lisping slightly as he watched the ritual marking of his guns next.

When the male turned with a snarl, Sheppard tried to protect his stomach as the thing launched at him for another round of 'questioning.'

-------

The tracking was going slowly, none of the searchers wanted to miss anything that would lead to Sheppard.

The three teams spread out, almost out of visual range in their attempt to cover as much ground as they could before dark. The radios were being used to check in every few minutes and to report any progress.

Or the lack of progress.

The shadows in the trees from earlier had disappeared from the scanner, leaving a disturbing quiet in their wake.

All but one small blip on the Ancient's device. Rodney leaned in and let Teyla see the small, square dot.

She nodded silently.

As Ronon kept up his tracking, Teyla kept darting glances at the trees, a feeling of being watched making her tense. Her P-90 was at the ready and her knees were slightly bent, prepared for an attack.

"Something is out there," she said in a low voice to her teammates.

McKay immediately pulled his 9 mil. "Where? Did you see something?" he asked as his gun wavered up and down the tree line, his eyes flitting from the device to the trees.

"No, but it is watching." Teyla cocked her head, listening to the sounds of the forest.

"Might be trying to draw one of us out," remarked Ronon from his crouch on the ground.

"Perhaps, but it would be good to have one of these things to question. It may speed our search for the Colonel."

Ronon didn't even look up from his tracking. "Too dangerous, we don't know what kind of weapons they have or if they attack in packs."

A sharp noise made Teyla turn, her P-90 up and her finger on the trigger.

Her sudden movement made McKay jump. "What? Did you hear something? Are they coming?" He glared at his scanner and backed up a step. "One life sign—coming in fast!"

Teyla held out a hand for silence, and McKay's mouth shut with a click.

She slowly walked forward, a bit closer to the trees. "We are not here to harm you. We just want to talk and to find our friend."

Only the breeze answered her, a display of beads and grass making a faint moaning sound in the wind.

"Please, we just want to talk," said Teyla in her soothing voice.

McKay had a small hope that she would be successful, and that this would all be over in a few minutes. It would be a misunderstanding and the Colonel would be returned to them unharmed. Then they could go to Atlantis and laugh about this later.

That hope was dashed when a black figure leaped from the trees and bore Teyla to the ground. Hissing and spitting, the thing was trying for Teyla's throat while screaming almost incoherently.

"Female! Get out of my territory! Female, not of my family!"

Rodney tried to aim his 9 mil, his gun jumping up and down, but the two were writhing on the ground in a tangle of limbs. He couldn't get a clear shot at the cat-like thing apparently trying to slit Teyla's throat with its huge claws.

McKay tried to fight the urge, but he just couldn't. He finally gave in with a muttered, "Cat fight!"

The only one who heard the comment was Ronon, who narrowed his eyes. "I'm guessing that's something you shouldn't repeat to Teyla."

McKay flushed, his gun still bobbing as it followed the action, "Uh, no."

Ronon nodded as he stood for a better shot with his own energy gun.

As they watched, Teyla kicked up hard, throwing the heavy, but shorter thing away and then she rolled over her right shoulder blade to regain her footing.

Ronon brought up his weapon, but Teyla motioned it down. "We need one to question. If we stun her, she will be unable to speak for precious minutes."

As used to stick fighting as she was, the moves translated well into hand-to-hand combat. Teyla allowed the female thing to expend a lot of her energy in trying to lunge in for a killing blow.

Teyla blocked the forearms covered with dark fur and kicked out to catch the creature in the stomach.

With a howl of outrage, the thing, set on killing Teyla, lunged again and it quickly became apparent that the small figure contained a great deal of strength.

More than Teyla was used to dealing with in the humans and the Wraith.

Teyla was hit hard, one of the large claws opening a long wound on her right thigh. Her uniform pants split, showing blood on her dark and toned skin.

Ronon growled and raised his weapon. His shot took down the creature as it raised its claw for another blow.

"Ronon!" gasped Teyla. "It may have known where the Colonel is located."

McKay crept forward, his 9 mil firmly pointed at the thing's head. "I'm sure the Colonel wants to be found, but I don't think he'd want you to get yourself half killed to do it."

Ronon just grunted and used his large foot to kick the creature onto its back.

It was out cold.

Their radios suddenly popped, causing McKay to jump and grip his gun harder.

"Teyla? Ronon? Doc? We heard weapon's fire."

Teyla touched her radio with one hand as she gripped her leg with the other. "We are fine, Major. We have captured a prisoner, but she is currently unable to answer questions."

Ronon reached into Teyla's vest for her personal medical supplies and set to binding her leg while they waited for Lorne to return with his team.

It didn't take long for Lorne's team to emerge from the underbrush to stare at the unconscious prisoner.

"That's it?" asked Lorne as he carefully bent down for a closer look. "It's so small."

"Didn't fight like it was small," said Ronon, his hands still on Teyla's ripped leg.

Teyla nodded her thanks for the help and allowed Ronon to tend to her wound.

With a last tie of the bandage ends on Teyla's leg, Ronon stood to point his energy blaster at the creature's still form.

"Maybe we should search it," Ronon grunted.

"It doesn't look as if what she's wearing has pockets . . . or much of anything," snorted McKay, his gun still steady.

As the men moved in closer to the female creature, the sound of hooting and howling came from the trees.

It was a sound of fear, agony and loss.

TBC . . .


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:  
Beta: J.A.B.  
Spoilers: Everything from Atlantis Season 1 and everything up to Michael are fair game.  
A/N: This is kinda a Writer's Block chapter, so bear with me.  
-------

The hooting and howling from the trees died down to nothing and Lorne took the opportunity to call in his last team for backup. The team was breathing heavily when they burst out of the undergrowth to join the others in an uneven perimeter.

Teyla sat with her leg outstretched near the stunned creature, her P-90 unwavering as she guarded the valuable, dark furred prisoner. This prisoner had potential answers as to what was happening to Colonel Sheppard on this strange planet. Perhaps, even a way to find him.

Ronon and McKay were nearby. Ronon was standing loosely, ready for action. Rodney was looking avidly at his Ancient scanner and mumbling to himself.

"I've got movement in the leaves," said one of the Marines quietly as he nodded to the group's right.

Lorne and Ronon looked to McKay, who nodded and motioned with the hand holding the scanner. "One life sign—close."

Half of the group turned to look to the right, while the others kept watch from the other directions in case of an attack.

To the right, at the base of a tree, appeared an old Ungue, his dark fur's youthful sheen gone, holding a staff made of what appeared to be lashed together leg bones. His squinted almond eyes kept darting to the still figure of the female creature half hidden by the humans.

"I will talk to you," the male said in a rusty voice. He pointed with a long, boney forefinger at the fallen female. "For her."

Lorne took an uncertain step forward, but stopped when Teyla held up her right hand in supplication. "Perhaps, Major, I should talk to him? I have the most experience with negotiations."

Lorne frowned over at the old creature with his brow furrowed, before nodding reluctantly to Teyla. He looked down at the Athosian leader with a grim expression. "Just don't let him get too close to you. I have a feeling he can still move it when he has to."

Teyla inclined her head in concurrence and attempted to regain her feet. As she struggled with her sliced leg, Lorne held out his left hand and helped her to steady herself. Smiling her thanks, Teyla braced herself, limped away from the group, and moved closer to the old creature.

Part way there, she stopped and perched on a dead tree trunk that lay on the ground. "I will speak with you. I am sorry; I can come no closer due to my injury."

The creature moved nearer, stepping out of the shade of the trees, his eyes large and his nose twitching at the smell of her old pain and fresh blood. He reached a hand into his short leather robe to get a powder to give to her when the clacking of much metal made the creature look up.

The men of Teyla's group had raised their weapons in an aggressive move.

The old one slowly slid his hand out of his robe's pocket and showed his empty hand to the female's protective males.

-------

"Major, I've got more life signs in the trees," said Rodney, his eyes going to Teyla's exposed position alone, still edgy over the old one's move for his robe.

The Major sighed. "As long as they stay in the trees." He turned to the Marines. "You see one furry foot step out and you shoot. Don't wait for my order."

The Marines just nodded, while Ronon growled in agreement, not happy that Teyla was out there alone with the thing.

Nervous and hungry, McKay pulled out his PowerBar and shifted his scanner so he could look at the shiny wrapper. He made a face and awkwardly ripped it open and took a bite big enough to puff out his right cheek as he watched Teyla limping out to meet the creature.

As the scientist munched quietly, Ronon's head canted to the side, his nostrils flared. Narrowed eyes glanced at the scientist until Rodney's childhood early detection system went off. "What?" Rodney demanded around his mouthful. "You're not going to smell me again, are you? 'Cause I have to warn you, I think I stepped in something back there."

McKay made a show of scraping his right foot in the grass as he chewed his bar quicker as if he were afraid the warrior would take it from him.

Ronon sniffed the air again and moved closer to McKay. "What're you eating?"

McKay looked down, befuddled and tried to back away from the seemingly over friendly warrior. "Chocolate and peanut butter. Why? You want one?" he asked quickly, his voice getting higher.

Ronon's brow wrinkled at that. McKay rarely shared his food. "Is it any good?"

McKay's hand that was holding the bar did a back and forth wobble. "Chocolate is good and the peanut butter is okay . . . if you like peanut butter."

"You don't?" rumbled Ronon as he glanced at Teyla and the old Ungue to make sure the thing was behaving itself.

"Eh, I'd rather have plain chocolate, or chocolate and cookies, or chocolate raspberry, or chocolate—"

Ronon huffed a breath, the closest thing to a laugh McKay had ever heard from the large man. "Okay, can I have one? Since you don't like it."

McKay blinked, but he kept on chewing. "Uh, sure." He put the half-eaten bar in his mouth to free up his left hand, dug out his extra bar and passed it over to the big Satedan.

Ronon just grunted his thanks and ripped the small package open as his eyes went back to Teyla and the old male.

After some lip smacking, Ronon turned back to McKay with a stare. "Have any more?"

McKay just emptied his pockets of all he had—quickly.

-------

"You are their female?" asked the old one, his bone staff lifted to point to the group of anxious men behind Teyla.

Teyla allowed her lips to curve into an enigmatic smile. "I suppose . . . it could be said that I am their female here. There is another that they take orders from when they are somewhere else."

The old one sat on his heels, his bone staff clacking with dry finger bones and old teeth. "It is strange for two females to share territory and males." His old eyes went back to the motionless dark furred female. "Her family wants to honor her passing. I will trade what you need so we can have her remains for the Display Tree. What must we do to get our female's body?"

Teyla looked at the old one in surprise and then shook her head. "No, you misunderstand; your female is not dead. She is merely stunned and will waken in a few moments."

The old one suddenly stood, too suddenly for Lorne and the others who immediately aimed for kill shots. The old male took no notice as he shook his staff and wailed at the trees.

Cries of joy answered him.

Teyla waved Lorne and her other companions to stand down. McKay and Ronon were the last to lower their weapons, not liking the second fright from the old Ungue.

The old one sat on his heels again. "What must we do to get her back? Her family is eager to regain her."

The Athosian leader inclined her head. "One of our people, Colonel John Sheppard, was taken earlier. We would like to know where he is located and his state of health."

"Ah, a trade then."

-------

The brown female with all the white threaded beads on her head was back, impatient for what information the male had gleaned. When she found out he had no new information from the human, the female backhanded him away from Sheppard.

"Useless," the female growled.

John had enough strength to glare at the dark male and curl his swollen lip. "Not getting any," he whispered, making himself cough on the blood from his nose.

His chin was grabbed, making the bruises complain sharply. The female pushed her face next to his. "Did you come through the Gateway before?" she demanded as she straddled John's body. "Are you here for more slaves?"

John coughed again. "Slaves?"

The female slapped him, her right hand clawing at his face. "I followed and found a nest of you! On the other planet. Masters!" she snarled in contempt. "You die easily, like the Pale Ones." 

She spit, the salvia hitting his chin. "Never again slaves!" Her hands went to his temples, her mind spiking into his causing him to gasp. "Now, where is she?"

"I don't know," stuttered John as the pain blossomed behind his eyes. "Don't!"

A low thrum of noise caressed his body. It was a rumbling that seemed to never end and it was so intense it was making his body shake.

It was in one of John's clearer moments that he realized that the female creature was purr-humming to itself, making her body shiver with the sound.

It was a happy, pleased sound as it tried to compel him to speak of things he knew nothing about.

-------

"First," said the old one. "We must eat."

McKay, Ronon and Lorne had been called in closer to be a part of the negotiations. The remaining Marines were guarding the female until they needed her.

McKay's eyes lit up. "Eat? I could eat."

"We don't have time for this," muttered Lorne to Teyla. "The Colonel could be wounded, in need of medical help. We have to find him now."

Teyla pursed her lips. "This may be our best chance to find Colonel Sheppard, Major. Now, please, let me speak to him."

Three of the young male creatures crawled from the trees, sacks tied to their backs, which they gave to the old one. Then they scurried back to the trees to watch the trade talks.

The old one dug in the first sack and passed around strips of dried meat. "This is traditional for trade," said the old one. "We eat of the Pale Ones' tongues so the lies will be drawn out of our words before we talk."

Ronon sniffed it and then took a bite. McKay, emboldened by the warrior's action, took a big bite as well. "Huh, chewy. Kind of like beef jerky," said the scientist as he munched.

Lorne and Teyla were not so eager. "The Pale Ones?" asked Lorne skeptically, turning the dried meat over in his left hand to study it.

"The Pale Ones are vicious, lying creatures that try to eat out our lives with their hands."

When they all realized that the old Ungue was talking about the Wraith, McKay rolled away from the group, gagging and throwing up.

Ronon just shrugged and lazily threw his piece over his shoulder and wiped his hands on his leather pants. He'd eaten worse things on the run from his Wraith hunters.

Lorne and Teyla just carefully laid their pieces down on the ground.

The old one just grinned, his browning teeth showing. "It is an acquired taste for some. Now, let us talk trade."

McKay shuddered from where he'd curled up into a ball, his eyes squeezed together to help settle his stomach.

The old male settled down, the sacks put to the side. "A long time ago—"

"—in a galaxy far, far away," muttered McKay. The scientist looked up at the sudden silence and noticed everyone staring at him. He shifted self-consciously, "What? Did I say that aloud? Sorry."

The old one chuffed a breath that sounded almost like a sneeze and continued. "Many, many years ago, we were slaves to those that called themselves the Masters. They were much like you in your looks and in speech. They told us amazing things—that we were created from creatures on another planet that hunted large, malevolent bugs that sucked the very life from their prey—"

Ronon stiffened. "On the way to the Iratus cave to help Sheppard, that's where I saw those claw prints."

McKay crawled closer to the group. "When we went to get those eggs for Sheppard? That bigger, 'something worse' thing that you so glibly told me about on the walk there?"

Ronon nodded with a self-satisfied look. "Told you. Always something bigger. A better predator."

McKay flopped on his back on the other side of Lorne, holding his stomach. "Great. Yes, you told me. Thanks."

The old one looked at the two in confusion. Teyla quickly spoke. "We have seen these 'malevolent bugs.' Some of our doctors believe the Wraith developed from the combination of these bugs and humans."

The old one looked surprised. "Much like what our Masters did to create us."

Lorne shook his head in disbelief. "These . . . people . . . created you? Like in a lab?"

"They were being hunted by the Pale Ones, almost to the brink of extinction here in this place. They needed bodyguards—warriors—to protect themselves. They created us and we served them for a long time. Our people have killed many Pale Ones."

"And where are your Masters now?" asked Lorne.

The old one blinked. "They are gone, where is lost to time. We have not seen a Master for many turns of our planet. Some say they will return and take us as slaves again. Many are against this now that we have known freedom. We make the Display Trees to mark our freedom and our hunting prowess over the Pale Ones, hoping if the Masters ever do return, they will see the warnings and leave us be."

"No one should live in subjugation to another," said Teyla firmly. "We must all come together to defeat the Wraith and to have peace."

The creature shook his head. "Winning will not feed or cloth our children in the future. We are content as we are."

Rodney turned away quickly to gag. Lorne shifted away from him and closer to Teyla with a scowl on his broad face.

The old one dragged one of the sacks forward. "Here are our most precious items—boiled for a precise time and then dipped in the mineral springs to harden. Very appealing to adorn the females of your kind." He pulled out a handful of cloudy eyeballs. "Or perhaps you wish the hair of the Pale Ones to string your bone beads of Naming." The other sack held long strands of white hair.

Some still had specks of scalp stuck to the ends.

It was a good thing McKay wasn't looking, thought Lorne.

"Ah, a very generous offer, but we only need the return of Colonel John Sheppard," replied Teyla as she subtly pushed back from the eyeballs and hair.

The old one looked puzzled and pointed to his items for trade. "Only the return of one male for a female? Are you definite?"

Teyla nodded. "We are certain. He is a very important male to our people."

The old one closed the sack and nodded. "He must be! Very well. I may know who has taken your male from you. This is partially her territory, a few of her males hunt here. It is possible that one of them took the male to make him a gift to her."

"Excuse me, but why would one of your females want Colonel Sheppard?" asked Lorne, not liking the implications.

McKay snorted from behind them, still ready to throw up.

"This one, she is pained, wounded in her mind since her young one was taken."

Now alarmed, Lorne started to stand. "Will she hurt him?"

The old one held out a hand for calm. "Perhaps she will. Grief does much, causes one to do many things out of the ordinary."

"Can you get her to release him, if this female has Colonel Sheppard," asked Teyla.

The old Ungue shrugged. "Perhaps. I belong to no female since mine died many, many years ago hunting the Pale Ones. I am old, and the females respect that—to have hunted and lived for so long is unusual in our culture. She may listen to me."

The group from Atlantis' radios popped. Lorne looked back at his Marines to see the captive starting to stir about on the ground. 

"It looks like your female is awake," said Lorne. "We'll have to take her along to ensure the deal."

The old one shook his head. "I am sorry; that female cannot go into the territory of another female. She would attack without mercy. She would not talk to me after such a transgression." The creature shifted his staff, making it clack. "I'm afraid your female will also have to stay. To step into this female's territory with the smell of blood on her will be instant death, to her and to your male."

TBC . . . 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Beta: J.A.B.

A/N: My muses were bribed with some nice Ungue trade items. They forced me to write this chapter.

Spoilers: Everything from Atlantis Season 1 and everything up to Michael are fair game.

-------

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" asked Lorne as he watched the old male Ungue reunite with the young female, her stunned state over.

"I will be fine, Major," replied Teyla, her high cheekbones looking flushed from her leg injury. "I do admit to some . . . unease, but I am sure they mean us no harm now."

Lorne tapped his P-90 as it hung from his vest. "Just to be on the safe side, I think I'll leave a couple of Marines."

Teyla's mouth curved in silent amusement at the Major's over protectiveness. Most likely, something he picked up from his CO. "As you wish, Major."

"He wishes," growled Ronon from his squat near the base of a tree, not happy to be leaving Teyla behind with the unknown people. Ronon hadn't seen them in a fight, but he knew with the strength he saw in their movements that they would be formidable as warriors.

"I don't like this," muttered McKay in a stage whisper that reached his whole group, his hands rubbing together nervously. "I had a cat on Earth, they-they like to play with their food. A little smacking, a little pouncing, a little chewing—"

"Cats like this?" asked Ronon, his hand on his gun and his eyes narrowed at the scientist.

McKay shook his head quickly. "No, no, no. Much, much smaller . . . smaller teeth and claws. More Meow Mix than Wraith tongues and . . . whatever else these creatures like to eat."

They watched the cat creatures greet each other with touches, rubbing and licks. Lorne grimaced when they licked each other's facial fur.

"You see?" asked McKay. "Now, that's cute when they are six pounds," he said and then he waved at the Ungue. "And that's just creepy when they're four foot tall and look like people."

The old Ungue gave the young female a last lick and returned to the humans. "The young one is recovered, just as you said. I will go and talk with the one that has your male."

"Thank you," said Teyla in her gracious voice. "I will remain here as you suggest."

"It is well. I cannot guarantee your safety with the other female. She is older and has more status. Here, my family has agreed to guard you from harm." Although, from the glare of the young recovered female, for Teyla, that promise was tenuous at best.

Teyla glared right back until the younger female lowered her eyes in capitulation.

"Let's go, no telling how Sheppard is doing with your female," said Lorne as he motioned all but two of his Marines to start on the faint game trail that lead to the older female's territory.

-------

Lorne and the others were gone only a few minutes when Teyla received a radio transmission from Pvt. Reichmann in the Puddle Jumper, his voice excited and scared. "Wraith, coming through the gate on foot! Looks to be about seven of them. Oh, god, the guards at the gate . . . I can hear them!"

"Have they reached the Puddle Jumper?" asked Teyla trying to cut through the young man's panic as her P-90 was readied.

"No, no, they're not here yet . . . but, the guards at the gate. They called me and the radios are still on. I can still hear them. They're screaming!" Reichmann sounded sick, his voice strained. "I have to go help them."

"No, there is nothing you can do," ordered Teyla, her soothing voice going hard. "Stay in the Puddle Jumper and keep it cloaked. You should be safe until they are gone."

"But, what about you and the others?" asked the shaky young Marine.

"Your job is to keep the Puddle Jumper secure. That is what Major Lorne and Colonel Sheppard would want you to do. We will all need a way back to Atlantis and right now you are the only guard to make sure we have it."

"Yes, ma'am," said Reichmann meekly.

Teyla signed off the radio and checked the Ungue. They were already on alert, probably had their own people watching the gate for trespassers.

The dark, young female now had a bone club and seemed to be rallying the males for the coming fight. Another, even younger female, this one blond, came from the trees, bowing low to the older female in respect.

Overall, Teyla counted two females and around six males. She wondered if it would be enough to fight off the Wraith who had stun technology.

The older female motioned to Teyla and the two Marines and some of the male Ungue approached them. "You must go into the trees," said one of the males as he bent low in a passive gesture to Teyla.

"We can help you," replied Teyla. She lifted her P-90 to show the male. "This is a powerful weapon—"

"They are our enemies in our territory. We will handle the interlopers," said the male with some satisfaction.

The three humans were pushed back into the trees and the Ungue got ready to kill the Pale Ones.

-------

The Wraith showed no mercy when they stepped through the gate. The two screaming Marines were grabbed by the necks, and then fed upon by the two refined looking Wraith. Their soldier Wraith kept guard, looking for more prey.

After they were done, one of the Wraith kicked the human husk away, its radio still popping. "Humans. I haven't seen human here in a long time."

"No matter, it will not interfere in our hunt," said the second as he carefully wiped his hand on his human husk.

"It best not," replied the first as he motioned the soldier Wraith forward, into the territory of their enemies, the Ungue.

They came across a Display Tree and one of the higher class Wraith snarled, "Savages!" He ripped down two of the smaller Ungue corpses and spat dark saliva on the bodies.

There was an answering snarl from the trees.

Wraith stunners were drawn and the deadly encounter began.

-------

Teyla had fought the Wraith since childhood—training, practicing and actual hand-to-hand combat with the life suckers, but she had never seen such violence.

The Wraith burst out from the underbrush and the Ungue swarmed the taller figures.

The formerly captured female Ungue leaped past a stun blast to come to rest on a Wraith soldier's chest, her toe claws digging into his flesh as she used her right handed kill claw to slash his throat.

The arterial black blood spray coated the female's dark fur as she howled with victory over the big creature's body as she rode it to the ground where it spasmed out its life.

Two males were fighting one of the higher ranked Wraiths, their smaller kill claws ripped at his leather clothing. The Wraith hissed and the Ungue hissed right back, their fangs showing in a grimace of fury.

One of the Ungue males slashed out, catching the Wraith in its right eye, popping it so that gel ran out of the eye socket. The Wraith howled and tried to cover the injury, but the second male Ungue went in for the kill, his kill claw expertly slicing a major blood vessel in the enemy's neck.

Even though the Ungue fought with hands and clubs—and were smaller by a couple of feet—they handily beat the seven Pale Ones.

When the fighting died down, the two Marines with Teyla breathed a sigh in the lull and tried to catch their breaths after watching the intense fighting.

"That was the most frightening thing I've ever seen," said one Marine as he leaned against a tree with his P-90 trained on the bloody, celebratory Ungue.

The second Marine was also unsettled and had his P-90 ready as well. "Cut through those suckers like they were standing still. And no casualties."

Teyla let the two men talk as she watched the activities of the triumphant group of Ungue.

First, the Wraith bodies were dragged into an uneven line, and then the females paced the lines, pointing out things to harvest from the dead.

In a neat and tidy operation, hair was shorn from the heads of the Wraith. The black leather clothing was taken to be recycled into Ungue clothing.

Special hollow bone tools were used to scoop out the eyeballs of the higher ranked Wraith and bone knives were used to cut out the tongues.

When the higher ranked female found the ruined eyeball, she punished the offending male with a back handed slap that rolled him across the ground. He crawled back, hands over his face in submission as she ignored him.

With the surface items taken, it was on to meat collection. The males began cutting the prime parts of the Wraith bodies for meat, both to cook and to dry for the lean months to come in the snow time.

It took a strong stomach to watch the preparations and each of the three from Atlantis had a hard time at different points of the operation on the killing ground.

"Ma'am?" asked the tentative voice of Pvt. Reichmann over the radio. "The Wraith haven't come back to the gate yet."

Teyla cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow at her Marine companions before she tapped her radio. "The Wraith will not be coming back, Pvt. Reichmann. The Ungue have . . . taken care of them for us."

One of the Marines happened to look over as one of the naked Wraith bodies were being tied with rope to be dragged to the closest Display Tree.

He finally threw up, his buddy not too far behind him.

-------

The camp was quiet. The brown female was eating from the dark male's supplies while the male stayed silent nearby, in case she needed anything else.

Ronon, McKay and Lorne could see Sheppard curled up near the center of the camp, his shoulders hunched and his arms wrapped around his head. He was down to his uniform pants, his black t-shirt and his socks—all of them ripped and showing dried blood.

The old Ungue held them back as they tried to charge forward into the small clearing. "It will do no good to go to him. She will not listen if you invade her male's camp. I shall go—speak with her."

The group held back as the old one went into the camp with a sack in his left hand and his staff in the right. His old, soft leather robe rustling around his knees as he shuffled out into the camp.

The brown female immediately leaped to her feet and growled at the intruder.

The old one got down on one knee and took a submissive position, holding out the sack of trade items he had brought. "I come to speak to you, Tribe Hunter. I wish to deal for the human male you have prisoner here."

"No deal until he tells where my daughter is!"

At her coarse voice, Sheppard flinched on the ground, his arms getting tighter around his head.

"Why do you think he knows of your daughter's location, Tribe Hunter?"

She picked up her painted bone club and charged the old one, stirring up a cloud of dust. She stopped just short of the old Ungue and smacked the sack of trade items to the ground. "Do you question me, Old One? I am a Tribe Hunter! He came through the Gateway like those that took her. He knows!"

She suddenly stiffened and sniffed the breeze. "Who is with you?" she demanded, her club rising for an attack.

The old one motioned to Lorne and the Major stepped into the clearing with the rest of the group crowding in behind him.

McKay and Ronon strained to get a better look at Sheppard, but could only see the raw claw marks on his arms as they covered John's head and a few on his back that peeked through a few rips.

"They come for their important male, Tribe Hunter. They wish a trade."

"Trade?" asked the brown female with contempt. "My daughter for this useless male! That is the trade."

The radios popped, causing the female to fall back into a crouch, her almond eyes going wide at the noise.

"Major, there was a Wraith attack. The Ungue have taken care of the problem, but we don't know if more are coming," said a male voice.

Lorne touched his radio. "Any casualties?"

"The two at the gate, sir."

"Damn it. Is the Jumper still safe?"

"Yes, sir. Reichmann is still with it."

"Okay, keep your eyes open and call me if you see anymore." Lorne signed off and stepped forward to be closer to the old one. "The Wraith—the Pale Ones—have been here. We don't have much time. We need to trade now."

"You have my trade demand! My daughter for this male! It shouldn't be hard, she has to be near the nest I killed."

"Nest?" asked Ronon as he edged closer to Sheppard, McKay creeping close on his heels.

"The LP," whispered Sheppard huskily from his curled up position. "She's the one that killed the people at the LP," his words sounded vacant and drained, but that could be blamed on blood loss.

McKay and Ronon knew different.

-------

"This is not going to work!" said McKay impatiently, one hand on his 9 mil., the other on Sheppard's right shoulder due to the fact that John refused to uncurl himself.

Ronon growled. "Someone has to go and check. She wants her daughter and we don't have time to argue."

"I agree with Ronon. We have to go. More Wraith might be coming at any time and we need to get out of here," added Lorne.

"Her daughter could be anywhere! Even if she is on the LP planet, it's a big planet!"

"McKay, we're going. Just stay with Sheppard . . . and do what you can," said Lorne as he let his gaze fall on the huddled form of his CO.

With that, Lorne and Ronon left the brown female's camp, leaving McKay and the three Marines to watch over the Colonel and the Ungue.

"Great," whispered McKay as Sheppard groaned in pain. "Just great."

TBC . . .


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

Beta: J.A.B.

Spoilers: Everything from Atlantis Season 1 and everything up to Michael are fair game.

A/N: If any of my medical stuff is even remotely correct—it's by accident. I swear.

A/N2: The muses are really loving those trade items—especially the mineral hardened eyeballs. They've been squealing all day over those. Oh, and more Sheppard this time!

-------

Even with the Marines standing with their guns at the ready nearby, Dr. Rodney McKay was a nervous and perturbed man. Sheppard wasn't even trying to respond to his questions, so McKay stewed until he could take it no longer and took matters into his own hands.

Laying down his 9 mil within easy reach because of the crazy brown cat woman and her male, the scientist took Sheppard's right shoulder in his grasp and pulled until Sheppard was on his back.

John flopped over with a groan and then tried to curl up around his stomach again, to guard his pain.

"Oh, no you don't, you idiotic fly-boy!" whispered McKay harshly. "I've got a walking, talking man-eater watching every move I make, so you just cooperate." There was a growl from the female and McKay hesitated. "She decides we're tasty like Wraith and we are so screwed, guns or no guns."

At that, the Marines moved a little closer to McKay and Sheppard.

Sheppard's eyelids fluttered and then stayed open a slit to show weary hazel eyes. "McKay? What . . . the hell?"

Rodney put a hand on John's forehead to find a fever starting up. "Yeah, it's McKay. Here, it appears, once again to pull your chestnuts out of the fire. Can't you take care of yourself without some female dragging you off to have her way?"

McKay started his check of John's injuries and winced when he saw the facial bruising and the claw marks up and down the Colonel's body through his ripped clothing. Rodney's field med kit was poorly equipped to handle all of this, but he would have to make due until the Major and Ronon returned.

Sheppard tried to glare at McKay, but it was too much of an effort. He settled for a glazed stare. "You're . . . not supposed to be . . . here," he slurred. Then he tried to turn his head to look for the female Ungue—his tormentor.

McKay quickly put a stop to Sheppard's head movement with a well-placed knee beside John's left ear. John didn't need to see the bloodthirsty creature right now. "Only because you banned us from off world missions; Elizabeth lifted that stupid ban when you disappeared. Don't touch that!"

One of Sheppard's shaky hands was trying to reach for the stinging cut across his forehead. It missed its mark and smeared the still tacky blood from his nose across his cheek before McKay could grab it and push it back down to the ground.

In the brief struggle, some of Sheppard's blood ended up on Rodney's uniform pants, causing McKay to purse his lips in distaste. He just knew he was going to end up with every space disease Sheppard had picked up since he started romancing the space bimbos in the Pegasus Galaxy.

"Head . . . hurts," muttered John, dried blood flaking off his swollen lips as he spoke, his eyes rolling slightly.

McKay dug out his personal med kit and then snapped his fingers for the Marines to give up theirs as well. "Did you hit it? What am I asking? Of course you hit it," said Rodney as he cataloged the items he had.

"Male . . . landed on me . . . knocked me out. Mind probes . . . lots. Brain damage?"

McKay had to snort at the last. "Most likely, but it happened a long time ago. Before you got to the Pegasus. Now, let's get you settled while we wait for the Major and Ronon the Barbarian."

As he worked, Rodney took a moment to glare at the unconcerned female Ungue as she gnawed on a Wraith leg bone.

She grinned back with a string of half cooked meat handing from her fangs.

-------

Ronon found the old LP with little trouble after going through the stargate, after Lorne took some time to move his two dead Marines back from the steps and give them a moment of respect.

And they contacted Teyla to let her know what was happening with Sheppard. With her leg stiffening up from her injury, she and the Marines left with her would stay put until the Puddle Jumper came to pick them up.

When they would all go home to Atlantis.

The Satedan couldn't easily forget the LP—a place of such savage death, even after his many years of running from and viewing the malevolence of the Wraith. Lorne had been lucky, he hadn't seen the LP's bodies . . . or the blood that painted the walls.

"Local village should be . . . this way," said Lorne as he pointed to the right of the LP bunker. "Seemed like good folks when I met them last time I was here."

Ronon grunted. "People's looks can be deceiving."

-------

John suddenly sat up straight, not even flinching at the cuts or abrasions. McKay scrambled to make him lay back down. "What are you doing? You're going to mess up the bandages!"

Sheppard just looked off into space, his eyes glassy. "I need to finish . . . the letters. I'm only up to . . . Jefferson. Still have . . . six more to go."

McKay took Sheppard by the upper arms and tried to push him down onto the leather robe the female's male provided when he asked for a blanket. "Don't worry about that now, you can finish when you get back to Atlantis. I can help you, okay?"

"Jefferson's mother is dead . . . only thing his father had left . . ."

"Oh, geez, Sheppard. You need to get some rest, you're burning up." McKay swiped a hand across John's face and then fumbled for the bandage he'd been using as a rag. He wet the bandage and wiped the sweaty face of his friend.

"Gotta have them on . . . the Daedalus first thing. Not right . . . to make the families wait."

The female Ungue growled from her space where she was making Naming Beads for her and her daughter. "Shut him up!" she growled ferociously.

McKay, angry and just plain frustrated, shot back, "I thought you wanted him to talk! Make up your mind!"

The dark male stood up; ready to defend his female if she needed him.

"Shut up, human. And shut that one up before I decide to kill you both." With that, the female went back to stringing beads on her Wraith strands of hair.

McKay frowned at his Marine guards and then looked back at his feverish friend.

Lorne and Ronon had better hurry.

-------

The Trading Square was huge in the closest local village on the planet. Lorne stood agape at the hustle and bustle of all the people. "How in the hell are we going to find her in all of this?"

Ronon stood relaxed with his hand on his energy weapon. His sharp tracker's eyes studied the faces that rushed past, letting his mind's eye study them in the moving blur.

Until one face caught his attention.

An older man with round jowls carried marks over his left eye—jagged claw marks. Of course, another animal could have made the marks, but Ronon liked to go with his gut and his gut was yelling at him right now.

"We follow the blood, we'll find the female," grunted Ronon to Lorne as he strode out into the crowd to follow the clawed man.

Lorne had to practically skip to keep up with the bigger man's stride.

-------

". . . and Jordan, have to write his mother . . . and his sister . . . it's in his file . . ." muttered Sheppard, his cheeks glowing red with fever and his hair damp with sweat and water from McKay's wiping.

"Shhhh! You can do the letters when we get back to Atlantis. Maybe Elizabeth will do them for you—"

"No!" shouted Sheppard, nearly coming off the ground again, surprising McKay and he moved quickly to keep Sheppard down. John had been non-responsive to most of the things he had been saying up to this point. "She can't! I have . . . to do it . . . this time."

"Okay, okay, just be quiet," soothed Rodney in a high voice as he cut his eyes at the brown female. "The bad kitty wants us to be quiet now. Quiet."

The old one slipped up behind McKay and touched his shoulder, scared the life half out of him. "Geez! I almost had a heart attack!" He glared at the Marines. "A little help here, fellas! Stay! Guard!"

The Marines just shrugged. They liked the old Ungue and didn't see him as a threat, not like the two younger ones.

"Perhaps I can help you with your male," said the old one as he knelt down with his trade sack. "I brought some common remedies to trade with the Tribe Hunter before she refused me."

"Good, good. Got any aspirin? Maybe a doctor stashed away?"

The old one wrinkled his furry brow. "Ass-pie-run? I have no ass-pie-run, nor a dock-tour, but I do have this." The old Ungue put his hand into the sack and pulled out a small orange bag made of grass and tied closed with Wraith hair. "Very old remedy for fever."

"It's not ground up Wraith bones, is it?" asked Rodney skeptically, leaning back from the bag in disgust.

"No, it is a plant that grows high in the trees. The trees give us life and keep us healthy," said the old one reverently as he raised his bone staff to make it rattle and point to the treetops. "Just add to his water a pinch and get him to drink."

Still wary, McKay hunched his shoulders. "I'll think about it. Yeah, maybe later."

-------

After tracking the clawed man back to a run down looking shack that had an unreadable sign, Ronon and Lorne waited for other movement.

For a ratty looking place, it was doing good business.

Lorne was surprised when Ronon pulled out a PowerBar and started to munch quietly and efficiently. "McKay rubbing off on you or something?" asked the Major in a hushed, dry tone.

Ronon grunted. "Peanut butter and chocolate. I like it. You like it?"

Lorne shifted as another man went into the shack, but he didn't have any visible claw marks. "What? PowerBars? Nah, I'd rather eat the chocolate ration bars."

"Don't like the peanut butter?"

Lorne cocked his head to the side to check the alley next to them. "Nah, ate too much of it as a kid. I had peanut butter and jelly almost everyday for lunch at school. Can't hardly think about it without getting a sour stomach," said the Major as he patted his flat abdomen.

Ronon grunted again as he finished off his treat and then threw the wrapped behind the building they were using for the surveillance. "This is taking too long. We need to get the people out of the shack so I can take a look around."

Lorne was already nodding. "I'm game. How?"

"Got a light?"

-------

"Grapefruit! I'm . . . not eating grapefruit without sugar!" snapped Sheppard. "I don't care what Mitch . . . says. Tell him, Dex." McKay knew he was in trouble when Sheppard looked him right in the eyes and called him Dex.

"Hey, old guy, I think he needs that stuff," said McKay as he snapped his fingers quickly. "Quick, quick."

The bag was placed in his hand and McKay took a deep breath. If this went the wrong way, Carson was going to have his liver on a silver platter. "Okay, just put this in the water? And make him drink it?" asked Rodney in a faint, sick tone.

"Just a pinch—like so," demonstrated the old Ungue with two clawed fingers. "Do this until his fever comes down."

"It won't poison him, will it?" asked McKay, glancing at the Marines, who were looking everywhere but at the scientist. They were going to be no help in making a potentially deadly decision about their CO.

"It is possible," responded the old Ungue. "You are very different than us, but the Masters used this very medicine when they lived here."

"Good-good, okay." Rodney took out his collapsible camp cup, poured in a small amount of water, and then put in the pinch of powder. The hardest part of the whole procedure was getting Sheppard to drink it.

The pilot made a face at the first sip of the bitter tasting water and refused to drink anymore. "God, Dex . . . where the hell did you . . . get this? Tastes like . . . cat piss."

"I'd bet you'd be the one to know," muttered McKay as he tried to hold the Colonel's face still to pour the mixture down his throat. "This hurts me more than it hurts you," said Rodney as John gasped when his bruises were touched.

With the mixture in Sheppard, McKay fell back and wiped his forehead. "Okay, now we're all right as long as he doesn't start frothing at the mouth or tries to eat our brains."

The old Ungue just shrugged at him, not understanding Rodney's words.

-------

One Athosian lighter later, the ratty shack in the Trading Square was merrily on fire, red and yellow flames dancing in the cool air.

Men and women were running from the building and Ronon took that as his cue to slip away from Lorne and sneak into the building's back door. Lorne was to keep watch and come get him if any of the traders got smart as to what they were doing.

All Lorne could see was the supposed owner of the shack wailing and trying to drum up help to save his trade building, such as it was. The Major looked at his watch, determined to give Ronon only four minutes and then he was going to look for him.

-------

Ronon opened the back door, barely big enough to fit his large frame. The room was full of green wood smoke from the stacks of new firewood in the corner, and he coughed as he looked for doors.

Down a small hall, he found a door that led under the shack.

He clattered down the steps, not caring if he was heard now, only to come face to face with a two-foot tall ball of furry fury.

The only thing that kept the little light brown female from launching herself at Ronon's head and ripping his face off was the chain that kept her left foot close to the wall.

"I'll kill you!" squalled the young female, in a higher version of her mother's voice. "Kill you!"

"Shut up," said Ronon as he pointed his energy blaster and fired.

-------

Lorne stood when Ronon come running back to the surveillance place with a small bundle hissing and spitting over his shoulder. "Find her?" asked the Major as he turned, ready to go before the villagers noticed them.

Ronon just grunted and then growled when a small, sharp claw found the meat of his upper arm. "Do that again, and I'll give you back to the slavers."

"I'll kill you!"

"So, you made a friend," smirked Lorne as the two men ran toward the stargate.

The young female just hissed, and attacked Ronon's dreadlocks, ripping some of his hair out by the roots. She then had a good time tearing the torn hair to shreds with her small pointed fangs.

TBC . . .


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:  
Beta: J.A.B.  
Spoilers: SG-1 Enemy Mine, everything from Atlantis Season 1 and everything up to Michael are fair game.  
A/N: If any of my medical stuff is even remotely correct—it's by accident. I swear. Make that double for military stuff. 

-------

Ronon and Lorne were almost to the stargate when the downy bundle of joy found one of Ronon's knives that he hid in his hair for emergencies. Her hissing stopped as she stared, fascinated by the shiny object and she bounced on the big man's shoulder.

She tested the edge, having seen her mother do the same with the tribe's bone knives and purred excitedly when a line of blood appeared quickly on her finger, oozing from the slice.

The female was merrily chopping up Ronon's leather coat when he caught her around the ankles, one still in a metal shackle, and hung her upside down. A firm shake made her drop the slim knife to the ground where Lorne scooped it up and put it in a vest pocket.

"What did I tell you?" grunted Ronon at the little female. "Behave or slavers."

Even upside down, the little one folded her arms in defiance and raised a lip to show her small fangs. No male would tell her what to do and how to act, not even one who had just saved her from slavers. "Mother says that I'm perfectly behaved for a Tri-tri-tribble Hunter. So there."

Lorne had expected her to stick out her rough little tongue at the Satedan when he stepped in to prevent bloodshed on both sides. "How about we play the 'How quiet can the Tribe Hunter be' game? Mmmm?"

She ignored Lorne to stare viciously at Ronon, so Lorne gave a sharp whistle to catch her attention.

She whipped her furry head around, her single Wraith hair braid swinging with her Naming Beads, and started at Lorne with upside down large eyes. She looked stunned for a moment and then her face contorted into a pout. "Again!" she demanded.

Major Lorne sighed. Having had friends with small children, he knew the 'Again!' game, where you had to do the same thing repeatedly for a child until you felt like screaming.

Instead of screaming, he pasted on a smile and whistled for her again.

And again . . .

-------

"Dex, come on. Where's Mitch? He . . . he owes me a twenty . . . and I need it tonight," slurred Sheppard as McKay worriedly mixed up another batch of the fever medicine.

Sheppard's fever was still high and he was still hallucinating and unsure of where he was. It concerned Rodney, afraid if the fever stayed too high for too long, that it might do some damage.

"He's out, Shep," replied McKay, tired of telling John that he wasn't Dex and they weren't in Afghanistan, or on Earth for that matter. "Said something about seeing someone about a dog."

"A dog? A dog? I . . . bet," replied John in a weak voice. "A dog." He tried to snort, but coughed instead, twisting his body in an attempt to ease his lungs.

"Just stay still," soothed McKay. "Here, drink this."

"Ohhh, not . . . that cat piss . . . again, Dex. You need a . . . a better supplier."

Rodney rolled his eyes at the old Ungue who just grinned right back at him. "This is, uh . . . the best I could get on such short notice. Now, drinky-drinky," sing-songed McKay in a high voice, holding the cup out to the sick pilot.

Sheppard needed help sitting up, took the cup in shaky hands, and sipped with a moue of distaste. When the cup was empty, he flopped back onto the leather robe and licked his teeth, trying to get rid of the bad taste.

McKay reached out with a nervous sweat dampened hand to feel the Colonel's forehead again. The temperature seemed cooler, but Sheppard was still sweating and confused about what was happening around him.

John raised a hand to push at McKay's hand and, instead, pinched the bridge of his nose, and tried to curl up again on the robe.

"What? What's wrong?" asked McKay quickly, his hand going to Sheppard's shoulder, trying to see what was happening.

"Head-headache, like a . . . hot nail," whispered the pilot, his eyes closed against the wrenching pain in his head.

McKay turned a panicked look to the old Ungue, who was frowning at the human on the leather robe.

-------

Teyla could hear whistling before she could hear footsteps. She was bemused when Ronon and Lorne came into sight with a small furry version of an Ungue sitting on Ronon's right shoulder as it stared intently at the whistling Lorne.

She shifted on her seat on a toppled tree trunk to get a better look when the little female suddenly sniffed and grabbed Ronon with a sharp grip.

"Slavers!" warned Ronon as he tried to pry the girl from his neck.

"No! Females! Not of my family! I'll kill them!" snarled the female, her little, needle sharp claws digging into his flesh.

"Sheppard is going to owe me until he's an old man," rumbled Ronon to Lorne as he grabbed the fur ball by her leg and tugged her away, leaving a trail of thin, bloody cuts.

At least the local Ungue females kept to the trees trying not to agitate the little one any more than she was.

When they reached Teyla with her bad leg, Lorne stopped in a slightly bent over position, and breathed in deeply, trying to get his breath back after his marathon of whistling. "Teyla, any word on the Colonel or the Doc?"

"None, Major. All has been quiet since the Wraith attack. I see you completed your mission for the Tribe Hunter." Teyla smiled, her eyes twinkling as she watched the child crawl out of Ronon's grip and claw her way back up to his head to pull on his rolled hair.

"Female!" she screeched when she noticed Teyla watching her.

Lorne wrung his ear with a finger at the high noise and ducked away. "Hopefully, Mom will take her back. You call for Reichmann in the Jumper and contact Atlantis while we go find out."

Teyla inclined her head. "I will, and I will talk to Dr. Beckett about the incoming dead and wounded." She also winced at the high squealing of the child. "It would be more . . . pleasant to be in the infirmary at the moment."

"I'll kill you! Mine!" wailed the little female as she clutched Ronon's dreadlocks.

Ronon gave the Major a miserable look and Lorne turned away quickly before the little one could grab him as well.

-------

The Tribe Hunter's camp was quiet as Ronon and the Major carefully approached. They were trying for quiet, but the little one recognized the territory and was getting more and more vocal as she called for her mother.

Swift as the wind, the Tribe Hunter swung down from a tree and swept the little one away from Ronon with a growl. The bigger female put her body between the foreign males and her daughter, as she looked the little one over for injuries.

"Humans took me! I tried to kill them—"

"Did you make them bleed, my daughter?" asked the Tribe Hunter, pleased to find no wounds on the child, but not liking the circle of metal on her ankle. It reminded the Tribe Hunter too much of their past.

The little one looked happy and grinned, showing her tiny fangs. "Yes. They bled a lot."

"Good, you will make a great Tribe Hunter some day."

Ronon and Lorne moved into the camp and McKay looked up in relief. "It's about time you two showed up. Sheppard here needs to get back to Atlantis." He motioned to the ill man on the leather robe.

They both looked to the Atlantis military CO to see Sheppard had a tight grip on his head with both of his hands and was slightly rocking his body.

The little one got away from her mother and closer to McKay and Sheppard and then made a face of abhorrence. "Male is sick. Should kill it. Better for your tribe."

McKay spluttered, making the girl's eyes grow wide at the funny noise. Lorne stepped in before they had to play another game of 'Again!' and looked at the brown female. "Do we have a deal? Your child for him?" he asked the Tribe Hunter.

The big female made a grab for her daughter and licked her head, getting the smell of Ronon off the child's fur. "We have a deal. Take the sick male and leave now."

"Dex!" called out Sheppard suddenly from the ground, his voice stressed.

Ronon started forward, confused, until McKay put out a hand. "Not you, he's been talking to his dead friends from Earth." He crawled closer, pulled out the cup and the powder for another dose of medicine. "I'm here, Shep."

"Head's . . . on fire," John whispered softly. "Hurts."

"Okay, how about another drink? That should help you. How do you feel other than your head?"

Sheppard's fingers dug into his skin on his forehead, hitting the cut and making it bleed again. "Like my head is going to explode!" He writhed on the leather robe, his cut up black t-shirt riding up to show his bloody scrapes and wounds from the male Ungue during the questioning.

McKay quickly poured the water and was about to open the power when the old Ungue covered his hands to stop the procedure. "This is not helping. It's his mind, not his body that ails."

"What? What do you mean? He has a fever from all the cuts. Right? Oh, god, I haven't poisoned him, have I?"

The old one shook his grizzled head. "No, his mind is wrong from the Tribe Hunter's and her male's probes. The powder will help the fever in body, but not the cause of his pain. I have seen this happen before, a long time ago. The mind goes and sometimes stays away."

Major Lorne knelt down by his CO and frowned at the old one. "His mind? What is the treatment for that?" he asked, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

"The Tribe Hunter must repair the damage done."

"Oh, no, there is no way she is getting near him after what she did!" snapped McKay, still holding the water and the powder in his shaking hands.

"Dex! The pain . . ." moaned Sheppard from the ground.

"The male will do it," snarled the female Ungue, pointing to the dark male as she retreated with her daughter. The Tribe Hunter handed the child a small bone doll made of Wraith finger bones. The doll rattled with dry tones as the daughter hugged it close and scratched at the bones with her small claws.

The old one shook his head and stood. "You are stronger, being female. This needs to be done quickly; he is worsening from the damage done by your probes."

"Is that why he knew me when we got here?" asked McKay, still hovering protectively over his friend and frowning at the female. "He's getting worse as time goes on?"

"Yes. It must be done now, before he goes further away."

The female growled in sudden fury. "We will not be slaves again! Or do their bidding again."

McKay was still looking stubborn about the prescribed procedure, but he was starting to get angry as well. "It wasn't us who took the kid! If anyone is in the wrong here, it's you!"

"I was searching for my daughter!"

"You killed twelve innocent people! People he feels responsible for," said McKay angrily as he pointed to Sheppard. "Just like you feel responsible for your kid. I don't like the idea of you anywhere near him, but the medicine is not working and he's still in pain."

"We should get Doc Beckett," said Lorne quietly. "Teyla has to have called him by now." His hand moved to hover near his radio.

"Beak-ette?" asked the old Ungue.

"He's our doctor—knows medicines and remedies," replied Lorne, struggling to make the old Ungue understand what Beckett was.

"No, medicines and remedies—no good now," said the old one with finality that shook everyone from Atlantis. "He needs the Curing Touch from a female."

"Fine! If it will get the humans out of here," hissed the female, causing her daughter to copy her, hissing as well.

The Tribe Hunter stalked forward, making her beads clack, to touch Sheppard. Rodney, still hesitated, moved away at the urging of the old Ungue. Just as the female pressed her hand to John's face, his eyes snapped open. "Get out of my . . . head!" Even weak and confused, Sheppard's mind tried to fight off the female Ungue's invasion, his back arching off the ground.

Blood began to drip from his nose as the female followed Sheppard's movements and kept the contact between them.

Changing his mind at his friend's obvious discomfort, McKay tried to step forward, to stop the struggle, but the old one grabbed his arm in a surprisingly strong grip. "It needs to be done."

When the Curing Touch was over, John was unconscious and the female pushed him roughly away.

Ronon strode forward, his energy weapon out and pointed at the Tribe Hunter. "Back away from him. Now."

Lorne was on the radio, calling Reichmann and the Jumper to come pick them up.

Ronon bent down, covering Sheppard from attack and was ready when the older female Ungue lunged at him with her claws unsheathed. Her male was not far behind her.

Until the daughter wailed, "No! He's mine!"

The mother stopped her attack in surprise, causing her male to stumble, and they both watched as her daughter darted across the camp to clutch at Ronon's neck. "But . . . he is human!" said the mother in disgust. "Look at how ugly they are."

"Mine," growled the little one. "Pet, nice pet."

The mother relaxed slightly. "No human as a pet. They stink and they eat too much."

"Mine!" repeated the child, her teeth sinking into Ronon's tightly rolled hair and holding on for dear life.

TBC . . .

There! One more chapter to go—John angst and Ronon finally finds what he's been looking for from the fridge. . .


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Beta: J.A.B.

Spoilers: SG-1 Enemy Mine, everything from Atlantis Season 1 and everything up to Michael are fair game.

A/N: If any of my medical stuff is even remotely correct—it's by accident. I swear. Make that double for military stuff.

A/N2: Sorry for the delay and the short chapter but I'm working through writer's block and a sudden obsession with Bobby Goren in Seasons 1-3 of Criminal Intent. Hey, I've heard Rodney's hand movements called hand porn. I've come to realize that Goren's hands do the same thing. Huh, I'm a hand porn junky. Who would have thunk it? LOL.

-------

"The Jumper is on its way with Reichmann, the other Marines and Teyla," announced Lorne in the ensuing silence.

The little one just huffed into Ronon's hair at the news, not sure what a 'Jumper' was.

"Get off," growled Ronon as he pulled at the little bundle of energy and claws to get her away from him and the unconscious Sheppard.

She only dug in deeper, her fangs cutting into his braid until Ronon winced at the damage.

Everyone looked to the old Ungue, but he only smiled, showing his fangs. "I can not interfere in a female's actions, no matter how young."

Lorne sighed and then knelt down where the small female could see him. He whistled a flat tone until her eyes flashed at him and then he pulled out the slim knife he'd been holding onto for Ronon. The same one the child had tried to murder Ronon's coat with.

The Major held out the metal object, moving it back and forth until the little one's head started swaying with the action.

"How would you like to be a very important Tribe Hunter? Huh? A metal knife from a human warrior to wear next to your . . . uh, eyeballs and beads? How does that sound?"

Lorne was sure the adult Tribe Hunter would gut him without a second thought, but with this, he had her support. Neither wanted Ronon to stay behind to be a human pet.

"My daughter, it would be a great prize." The larger female pulled out a twist of Wraith hair and made a loop. "We could make a sheath for it from the scrap leather from our enemies."

The little one was unsure, her eyes narrowing at the moving metal blade.

Until the sunlight winked off the surface and her head came up, leaving a trail of saliva on Ronon's hair. "Mine!" she squalled as she launched herself at Lorne and grabbed the pretty knife away from him.

Ronon immediately stood and raised his weapon, but the female Ungue was too busy showing her daughter ways to display her new prize to attack. With the dark male watching the humans, the two females faded into the forest, and then the male followed.

"That was my knife," rumbled Ronon to Lorne.

Lorne shook his head. "It was your knife or your life; I figured you'd rather get a new knife than take up a life of playing Fido for psycho-kitty."

There was a snort of laughter from the right and Ronon glared at the three Marines that had stayed with McKay and Sheppard. They quickly turned back to watch the trees.

Lorne tapped his radio. "Reichmann, where are you?"

"We are on our way, Major," answered Teyla. "We had some . . . obstacles to overcome before we could load the Puddle Jumper."

Ronon's eyebrows lowered at that announcement. "They didn't try to attack?"

"No," answered Teyla quickly. "It was just our landing spot was being used as a place to smoke some . . . meat."

"Oh," was all Lorne had to say as McKay bit his bottom lip and breathed noisily to keep away the nausea.

-------

Sheppard woke up, and even though the Puddle Jumpers were designed to be very quite and not to transfer the feeling of motion to its occupants, he could tell he was flying.

In every aching, throbbing part of his body.

There was a wet trickle on his upper lip and a roll of gauze was suddenly there. "Turn your head, Colonel," said Teyla's softened voice.

John opened his eyes to see Teyla sitting on the floor of the Jumper while he was spread out over one of the benches in the back with a blanket over him.

"Hey," he whispered as she swabbed his nose and lip. "You okay?"

Teyla's strong face gave a self-deprecating smile. "I am, how you say, a little worse for wear."

Before he could ask what happened, the back hatch opened and they could all hear the accented tones of Carson Beckett. "What's happened here now?"

It was during the scramble to get the wounded and the dead to the infirmary that John remembered the mind probes . . . and the thing that killed his people at the Listening Post.

He sat straight up on the gurney and almost took a header onto the hard floor.

"Colonel! You need to keep still. Now lay back down," said Beckett in a stressed voice.

John could feel hands on him, but he shook them off. "She killed them all. I have to go back."

"Colonel, the only place you're going is to the infirmary."

"But, she killed them! If I can't go back, then a team needs to go—"

Beckett stopped the gurney and laid a hand on John's shoulder in sympathy. John flinched at the contact. "I understand. I really do, Colonel, but you're in no shape to worry about this now. Just lay back now and let us help you."

It wasn't the request that made Sheppard lay down, but a searing headache that was starting at his neck and working its way up to his eyes.

He spent the rest of the time with Beckett and his nurses with his eyes closed and his mouth in a harsh line.

-------

McKay was getting the hell out of Dodge. Ronon was staring at him again. He still wasn't sure what was going on with the Runner, but he didn't want to stay in one place too long to find out.

As soon as Sheppard and Teyla were settled in the infirmary and Carson caught the Satedan to treat the tiny scratches from the little Ungue, Rodney departed for parts unknown.

At least, he thought they were unknown.

It was barely 45 minutes when a large hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, making him yelp.

"McKay," said Ronon as he put a deceptively friendly arm across McKay's shoulders. McKay tried to slide out of the one armed embrace, but Ronon just moved with him. "You owe me."

"For what?" said Rodney as he shrugged his shoulders without a visible effect on the bigger man's grip. "Hey, I've got work to do." He tried for arrogance, but the words came out in a squeak.

Ronon let his eyes wander the empty corridor at the very edge of the inhabited city. "Work? All the way out here?"

"Yes, I have work out here. I'm a very busy man."

Ronon snorted. "You owe me."

The longer their confrontation went without physical pain, the more relaxed McKay became. "I don't know if that hair is growing the wrong way or what, but I don't owe you a thing," said Rodney as he crossed his arms across his chest in defiance.

"Transporter. Three hours."

"You have no proof that was me!"

"Do I need it?" asked Ronon as he bore down on his arm that was still across Rodney's shoulders.

"No," replied Rodney, a petulant tone to his voice.

"Good. Here's what I need you to do . . ."

-------

Two days later, Teyla was in a wheelchair and making her first excursion away from the supervision of the medical staff. Elizabeth Weir greeted her in the hallway holding a blue folder, on her way to see Beckett and Sheppard.

"Out so soon?" asked Elizabeth, her smile wide.

"Yes, it will be good to be able to do things for myself again."

Elizabeth leaned against the wall next to the infirmary and Teyla took her hands away from the chair's wheels with a questioning look.

"I've read the reports about the Ungue."

Teyla's eyebrow rose. "Ah."

"Do you think we can get them to become allies?"

Teyla looked over her shoulder at the infirmary door, to where John was still silently lying and staring at the ceiling of the room. "No, even if the Colonel's animosity was not a factor, I do not believe we could be allies. The things I saw with them . . . they are ferocious fighters, but they are very different from us."

"Would they be open to the suggestion?"

Teyla shook her head. "No, I asked several, including the Old One that helped Dr. McKay. They are not interested in us or our 'help.'"

Weir sighed. "It's too bad. We could have used allies that could fight like them." She scuffed her foot on the floor. "How is John today?"

"He is still silent, but I think his pain is less today. Dr. Beckett said his scars are healing."

Weir held up her blue folder. "Hopefully, more than just his scars."

Teyla inclined her head in understanding and then she rolled her chair down the hallway.

TBC . . .

Yes, there will be another chapter since I shorted this one. I still have the Ronon mystery to sort out and some John angst to get to . . .


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:  
Beta: J.A.B.  
Spoilers: SG-1 Enemy Mine, everything from Atlantis Season 1 and everything up to Michael are fair game.  
A/N: If any of my medical stuff is even remotely correct—it's by accident. I swear. Make that double for military stuff. 

-----------------------------------------

Elizabeth paused outside the infirmary door and studied John Sheppard. He was staring at the ceiling, his hand twitching every few second as he suppressed the urge to scratch at his healing cuts.

His expression was hard and his lips were pinched in a flat line of anger and pain.

Elizabeth looked at the blue folder she carried and suddenly decided it wasn't the time to show John what was inside. She motioned to one of the on-duty nurses and slipped the folder into the surprised woman's hands.

"Could you put that on Carson's desk? I don't think the Colonel is up to discussing it right now. I'll pick it up later."

The nurse let her hands clamp on the blue folder and nodded. "Yes, Dr. Weir."

Elizabeth steeled herself and then approached John's bed. "Hi, John."

He didn't look away from the ceiling. "You lifted my ban on civilians and non-Earth personnel going on missions," he said flatly.

She sighed. So, this was how it was going to be. "Yes, when you disappeared. I wasn't going to tell your team that they couldn't participate in the search."

"If I was missing, then it was too dangerous for them."

Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest and held back her rising anger. It wouldn't do any good to get John worked up while he was healing. They could have this fight when he was in better physical shape. "So, what does Carson say?"

"A couple of weeks." His disgust was apparent in his tone.

"Well . . . I'll come by to see you again later," she said as she carefully backed away. She was trying for casual, but it was beginning to feel like fleeing.

"I want my ban back in place," John said absently, once again absorbed in his study of the ceiling.

Without answering, Elizabeth turned and made for Carson's piled up desk. She snatched her blue folder and made her escape.

--------

Ronon stood guard as McKay fiddled with his electronics. "Is this going to work, McKay?"

"Relax! I have a cunning plan." Rodney waited a beat for a snort of laughter until he remembered that it wasn't Sheppard with whom he was joking. Ronon was still a little shaky on Earth TV shows, so he didn't catch the reference.

Sheppard would have.

Meeting the neutral gaze of Ronon, McKay sighed. "Uh, yeah, it will work."

Ronon raised a shoulder in confusion and then went back to guarding as Rodney looked over the set-up in the small refrigerator.

-------

John's visits for the next week were limited, both by Carson's concern for his injuries and by John's deteriorating outlook.

His team took turns in trying to draw him out of his cold anger, but nothing was working. Not Teyla's calm support, not Ronon's silent solidarity and definitely not by Rodney's verbal torrents about his flying lab monkeys making mistakes.

One of the nurses was taking his vitals when John turned his gaze from the ceiling and glared. "I want to leave."

The nurse blinked. "Sir, I'll have to speak to Dr. Beckett—"

"Never mind," replied John as he pushed himself up and started searching for his clothing—hell, any clothing. When he found none, he settled for taking the white sheet from the bed to cover his loose gown.

He was out the door before the nurse could call for Carson.

-------

John shuffled by his room and changed into jeans and a soft gray pullover before wandering out onto one of the many balconies that lined Atlantis. He took a moment to watch the sun dogs and rainbows that were mixed in with the high clouds before going to his office.

They hadn't let him know about the official missions since he returned from the Cat Planet From Hell. He kept asking, but they kept putting him off. He found it disorientating not knowing what his people were doing.

Before going to sit at his desk, he stopped and did a little fiddling to the door.

He was very satisfied when the door closed with a hiss.

Now maybe he would get some peace and quiet.

-------

A tiny red light was blinking the next time Rodney checked on his equipment near his team's refrigerator. They had expected results long before now, but the prey was wiley and selective.

McKay rubbed his hands together in glee and popped up a viewing screen to look over the newest surveillance footage.

He shook his head in disbelief at the face of the thief as the figure leaned into the small fridge and took the decoy container with Ronon's name in big black letters on the lid.

"Oh, you poor, poor idiot," Rodney murmured. Then his lips twisted into a smirk.

Time to tell Ronon.

-------

Lorne wasn't a happy man as he walked into the infirmary and found a beehive of activity. Nurses were calling back and forth to each other as Beckett and two of his doctors were having an intense argument in the center of the room.

"Doc?"

Beckett turned to Lorne with a dour expression. "Major, thank God you're here. Your idiot of a CO decided he could check himself out of medical care. He left a few minutes ago."

Lorne sighed and wondered if he should have brought his P-90 and vest. Hunting John Sheppard in Atlantis was never a fun activity when the Colonel didn't want to be found. "Anyone catch which direction he was headed?"

Beckett shook his head. "No."

"Is he going to be okay? Physically?"

Carson hesitated. "He's still not at his best in the health department. It's not that I'm the most concerned with."

The Major left the infirmary as he called the control room for a trace and for a couple of teams to search.

-------

Rodney was still packing up his spying equipment when Lorne called him over the headset.

"McKay?"

"Yes, hey, busy here," sniped Rodney as he made sure the disc of information was securely stashed in his jacket so he could show it to Ronon. Hopefully, that would mean his part of the Ronon deal was over and he could go back to working in his labs without looking over his shoulder.

"Rodney," said Lorne's voice in exasperation. "Have you seen the Colonel in the last, say, ten minutes?"

Rodney raised his hands in disbelief and slapped them against his thighs. "Oh, don't tell me you've lost him? You know how hard I had to work to get him back to Atlantis?"

"So, you haven't seen him?"

McKay absently zipped up the soft, padded equipment case. He played with the zipper pull for a moment and then sighed. "No, I haven't seen him, but I think I know where you can look."

-------

John sat at his desk and drew in a deep breath and let it hiss out as he pushed at a few papers that lay in front of him.

Normal stuff. Just a few requisition forms, a few reviews of the newer personnel. A blank form that was for the upcoming peer evaluation of Elizabeth's leadership of the base.

The outbox on his desk was empty, but obviously someone had been working in the office. Must have been Lorne.

The inbox had a few memos and six mission reports from the recon teams.

He didn't pay much attention to the memos, but he was interested in the mission reports since he had been out of the loop. Flipping past the top page, John went to the meat of the report. The planet designations on the reports started the slow burn in his gut. A burn that turned into churning when he absorbed what he was reading.

They were scouting out new sites.

He almost threw up when the next report specifically mentioned setting up a new Listening Post.

-------

Lorne thudded up to the door of Sheppard's office like a boy being forced to go to the principle's office. Hell, if Sheppard wanted to be alone, then he should be alone. Who was he to get in the way?

He owed the guy after letting Sheppard get dragged off by the cat creatures. Lorne turned to walk away when his radio hissed.

"Is he there?" asked McKay's impatient voice.

Damn, caught. Lorne keyed his radio. "I just got here, McKay, give me a second."

Lorne swept his hand over the control but the door stayed firmly shut. He pressed his hand to the smooth surface and thought hard. It didn't budge.

"Well?" asked McKay.

"I don't think he wants visitors right now, McKay," replied Lorne after a moment of indecision. Hey, Beckett said he was okay . . . basically. Maybe the man just needed some quiet and space right now.

"Leave it up to you and he'll. . . never mind. I'll be there in a minute," huffed the scientist.

Whoops, there goes the quiet.

-------

"If I don't have a hulking barbarian manipulating me into helping find out who's stealing his goodies, I have incompetent military pilots . . . " Rodney trailed off as he reached Sheppard's office and all but shoved Lorne out of his way.

He spent all of two seconds trying to open the door before pounding on the flat surface. "Sheppard, I know you're in there! Open up!"

Silence.

"I'm not kidding here, Colonel. I'll-I'll superglue your P-90." Rodney leaned into the door and tried to think at the opening mechanism. "And I'll hide all your Johnny Cash CDs."

The door swished open to show a pale Colonel who seemed to have a bad case of the shakes.

"Oh, well, good," said McKay as he crossed the threshold before Sheppard could change his mind. The scientist turned back to Lorne in the hallway. "I got it from here, Major. Let Beckett know where he is."

Then Rodney tried for the dramatic 'shut the door in Lorne's face', but the door stubbornly stayed open. He turned to Sheppard. "What happened to the door?"

The Colonel seemed to straighten a bit. "Well . . . uh, here." He pulled out a small panel and touched a few things. The door shut.

Rodney's jaw was hanging. "Wait, wait, wait. When did you . . . oh, I see. You lulled me."

Sheppard turned away and made it back to his desk. "Lulled?" he asked hazily.

"Yes. You swagger in with your flyboy hair and your 'cool' and made me forget. You are smart. You lulled me."

Sheppard didn't seem to be listening, so it was surprising when he answered. "Well, I do watch you on missions, Rodney." He put out a shaky hand and grabbed up a piece of paper. "Did you know?" he asked as he shoved the paper at his friend.

Rodney looked down long enough to see the planet designation. He let out a long breath. The type of long breath he usually reserved for 'oh, my god, you just blew up five-sixths of a solar system.' "Yes," he said quietly.

The Colonel didn't say anything else, just sat in his executive chair and stared into space with the paper clutched tightly in his hand.

"Elizabeth thought a new Listening Post would—"

Sheppard put up a tired hand that shook. "I . . . hell. I can't talk about it right now, Rodney. Let's just sit here for a while, okay?"

"Okay," repeated McKay as he sat in one of the extra chairs.

-------

Weir was worried. Very worried. Rodney had finally gotten Sheppard to turn himself in to Beckett and to continue his bed rest, but the simmering anger was gone.

In it's place was a physical silence that seemed to suck all surrounding noise and light in like a blackhole.

Rodney told her that Sheppard was aware of the new L.P. plans, but John had yet to bring it up in her presence.

The few times she'd tried to get him talking, he'd begged off by indicating the letters he was trying to finish for the families of those killed by the female Ungue.

Neither brought up the fact that he only seemed to be working on them when she wanted to see him.

TBC


End file.
